


Be a riot, 'cause I know you

by theirloveisesoteric



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Basically Criminal!1D, Complicated Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Juvie, M/M, One Shot, alternative universe, aye not gonna say i didn't warn ya: angst, criminal!harry, criminal!louis, juvenile detention hall, nick is a prisonguard, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theirloveisesoteric/pseuds/theirloveisesoteric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had always been an art appreciator, but Louis sitting there with his feet dangling over the edge of the roof was the most beautiful masterpiece that he had ever seen.  Harry wondered how someone could look that perfect, and at the same time, that broken.<br/>Louis looked like a Monet. From far away, he seemed whole and perfect, but the closer Harry got, the more you saw the little strokes, the details that broke him down. He saw the way his hands were shaking, and the way that he was seated just too close to the edge.  If you stood up right next to him, it could be overwhelming in the sense that you cannot even see the bigger picture, and it only looks like a bunch of haphazard strokes. To Harry, he looked like a thousand midnight heartbreaks and a thousand more unsaid things.<br/>Yet the strokes still spoke of a masterpiece. </p><p>(Or the one where Harry is sent to juvie, where he meets Louis. But you know, things are always complicated between them)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be a riot, 'cause I know you

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still busy writing this, so it's not complete yet :)

Harry was waiting in the car as it happened. He was singing along to the Friends theme song, and shaking his curls around. Whenever he was truly happy, or even just content, he would start humming the song. It made him a bit nostalgic, although, to be honest, he had not been able to watch the show in years.  
He was halfway through “when it hasn’t been your day, your month or even your yeaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr” when his car door was ripped open and his two friends, Niall and Liam, jumped in like there was a bomb behind them.  
“Fuck, Harry! Drive, drive, drive!”  
He thought maybe one of Niall’s many exes were after him, or maybe one of their teachers. The teachers at their school were like vultures, they could spot you a mile away, and will never forget your ripped jeans, and what they called “inappropriate clothes”  
Their science teacher was the worse. Mrs. Flack. She was middle aged, but dressed like she was the oldest of the staff. Her motto was always; “Every single thing you learn in this class you will need to know at some point in your life.” Harry doubted he would ever need to calculate the mass of a proton in his life, but he did not dare to voice his opinion.  
So he sped off, and it was as easy as that. He himself was not in the mood for awkward chit chat, so he slammed his converse against the pedal and sped out of the parking lot with much more speed than he knew was necessary. He didn’t even take notice of the police sirens, because it was London, and the police were always around the corner, chasing some or another criminal around.  
He started wondering what was going on when he slowed down at Nando’s, and a hyperventilating Niall told him to keep going. Liam was as white as a sheet.  
He knew something was very, very wrong when the flashing lights surrounded them, and the police jumped out of their cars and slowly approached their car. He was sitting, mouth hanging open, when they demanded he opened the door. They immediately arrested him, and only an hour later, when they were in the holding cell at the Juvenile Center (since they were only sixteen) did he hear what was really happening while he was singing the chorus.  
“You did what?!”  
He was treated by a blank stare from Niall, and Liam looked down at his feet, scuffing his converse against the strangely clean floors. They were alone in the cell; with only two officers sitting nearby, looking up at the flat screen TV hanging from the wall across from the boys. It was a fancy centre; Harry had always envisioned cells to be like in the movies; dirty, and full of brutal men who would beat you up if you so much a squeaked. But then again, they were young, so they weren’t taken to the real police station. Maybe the real ones really were so?  
“When, in your whole existence, have you ever learned that it is okay to rob a bank? You don’t know how to handle a gun, you could have shot somebody!” Harry felt himself turn pale at the look on the other boys’ faces.  
The news reporters’ shrill voice filled the room as the police officer leaned forward to up the volume and give them an accusatory look.  
“The National Bank in London erupted in chaos this morning when two armed robbers stormed in, demanding £30 000 in cash. After getting no response, they fired shots into the air, which ricocheted off the ceiling and hit three innocent patrons. One of the patrons was declared dead at the scene, and the other two are being treated in a local hospital, said to be in serious condition. Witnesses are being treated for shock and injuries obtained trying to flee the scene. After the shots, the suspects ran off and into a waiting 1998 Honda Accord, where a third suspect drove them off at a tremendous speed, slowing down slightly near a shopping complex before speeding up again. The police caught the suspects and they were taken into custody. A few minutes ago we received confirmation from the local police confirming that the suspects were minors, and that there were no other suspects waiting to be arrested.”  
The reporter signed off and the advertisements began to play. Harry couldn’t even look into his friends’ eyes. He was furious that they dragged him into this, furious that he hadn’t realised. He knew about their shoplifting problems, but he thought it was only petty things, like nicking cologne and sweets at Boots. He also knew they had gotten involved with drugs, but he played it off as kids being kids.  
“I’m sorry we dragged you into this,” Liam said, uttering the first words since they had burst into the car.  
“Why did you then?” The anger in Harry’s voice was adamant. It was a very good thing that he had so much self-control and logical thinking; otherwise he would have slammed them both against the wall, beating the life out of them for getting him into this mess. Instead, he wrung his hands in his lap, and took a deep breath, which did nothing to soothe him at all.  
“You’re the only bloke we know that can decently drive, even if you don’t have your license yet. Haz, we really needed the money.”  
“And you couldn’t just work for it like normal human beings? Couldn’t just get a job at McDonalds?”  
“You don’t get the type of money we need from a job. We have loans to pay off to the type of people that wouldn’t think twice about blowing your head off if you didn’t give them what they want.”  
“Sounds a lot like you two then.”  
The other two recoiled, looking like they were just punched.  
“What did you loan from them? And don’t even think of lying to me.”  
“We just…” Niall glanced over to make sure the officer wasn’t listening in, “Needed a way to pay for the drugs. They don’t come cheap, and we bought too much, and we couldn’t pay, so they threatened us. What were we supposed to do? ”  
Niall and Liam had both been kicked out of their homes two weeks ago, and had managed to find their own dingy flat in the worst possible part of town. Harry visited every day, to make sure they were still okay and to bring over the dinner that his mum had cooked for them.  
His mum. He couldn’t help but imagine the disappointment in her eyes when she will hear the news. She had always been so proud of him, for being such a good boy, and he knows that she won’t find it in her heart to forgive him any time soon.  
After all, his own father had died receiving an accidental bullet at the robbery of his store when Harry was eight. Harry had been right next to him when it happened. Whenever people got the nerve to ask, he just said he doesn’t remember him. But he does. He remembers the footie matches, going out for waffles every Sunday morning, the smell of Old Spice after he shaved. And he would never forget the sound of gunshots and the smell of blood that morning when it happened.  
But he didn’t like thinking about it. Memories are dangerous things. You think you know every detail, that you’ve touched it enough so it cools down, but every time you touch it, it still burns your hand and you quickly learn that your touch doesn’t put the fire out; it ignites it.  
He had worked hard to make sure no one knew him as that boy, and he was secretly proud that not even his best friends had known about it. There are little corners of everyone that are better off left alone.

 

Harry’s state appointed lawyer, Mr. Hastings, didn’t even believe that he didn’t know what he was doing. To top it off, he was driving underage, without a licence. He wanted to talk to his mum, but Mr. Hastings made a petty excuse and in that moment he knew that his mother did not want to look in her son’s face. He cried for three days straight after realising this, and kicked Niall and Liam away when they tried to near him to comfort him.  
Three days after their arrest, it was their first appearance in court. The judge ruled that they were aware of the acts they committed and deemed it unsafe for other citizens to let the boys go, which meant they had to stay in the Juvenile hall for the duration of their trial. His mother, being his legal guardian, had to attend by law. Even the other two’s mums showed up.  
It only took one look at his mum to know that she was heartbroken. She carried a weight around her like a boulder she was dragging, and the lack of sleep coloured the space around her eyes blue and black. He looked down the whole hearing, refusing to see her again. .  
He knew that he would be charged as guilty. He knew it, but he still had that tiny fragment of hope. So the day of the hearing, when the judge said “guilty” it wasn’t the unfairness that burnt at his stomach and made his mind explode in fireworks. It was hope dying.  
Harry was sentenced to five years in the state run correctional facility, Huckster Reform School, for accessory to murder. The facility housed delinquents up until the age of twenty five.  
Niall and Liam were sentenced to nine years in Huckster, for murder, until they turned twenty five. As the three were led away, they could hear the sobs of their mothers, and the unsaid questions that lingered with them.  
Why didn’t I see this coming?  
Why would you do that?  
What did I do wrong?

 

 

The bus ride to Huckster was strangely peaceful. Harry had always found comfort in long drives, and usually was the first person to fall asleep. The constant turning of tires put him to sleep just as easily as one of him mum’s songs always did. She had an amazing voice, but had given up singing when she got out of school, saying she would never have gotten anywhere. Instead, she went to uni, and became a teacher. The best in the primary school she taught at, Harry always liked to brag.  
Sometimes, when Harry heard her singing in the shower, he knew she was lying about not being good enough, but he didn’t say anything. You can’t blame him for thinking that it wouldn’t have done any good if he told her she should try it again, because it only makes him human.  
Don’t we all ignore the important things- play them off as permanent, something that will never, ever change, no matter how hard we try? Just because you don’t want things to change, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Maybe it just means you’ are a bit naïve.  
The bus was mostly empty, which made Harry wonder why they didn’t just use a smaller one, not one where fifty people could sit. Were they planning for some kind of uproar in kiddie crime? The pamphlet said that there would be no “school trips” (basically meaning that unless you develop an illness serious enough not to have available treatment by the nurse, and you had to be sent to the hospital, that you wouldn’t leave the grounds until you were released) – which meant that the bus wouldn’t be used for that.  
Harry was sat in front, slumped so low that his unruly curls barely peeked out from above the seat. Two rows behind him, Niall and Liam were sat, each looking up every now and then, a guilty glint in their eyes. Their biggest wish was for Harry to forgive them. But they knew they couldn’t push him, for fear that he would lash out with all the fury he had so carefully stowed away inside him.  
There were five more delinquents on the bus, including a boy with a razor cut and a smirk as sharp as wire, and another boy sitting in the corner shivering and crying. No one paid attention to him, but they all knew what would come for him as soon as they got out of the bus.  
They all wanted their last moment of privacy, one moment where they wouldn’t have to think about their looming fate. 

 

Huckster was set across 20 acres, a massive piece of land with barbed wire and an impressive 15 foot wall; making one thing abundantly clear- there was no getting out. The bus was greeted by an officer with a vicious snarl and a dog that looked even more threatening.  
There were five buildings; the main building, two dorms, the classrooms- for those willing, and old building that looked like it hadn’t been used for years. As the bus rolled forth, the knot in Harry’s stomach tightened as he saw the many boys heaving and running, shovelling dirt, or doing some or other activity that looked about as appealing as getting a root canal. No, it was much worse than just a root canal. It was a root canal for every day for the next five years. Cheers.  
The bus stopped in front of the main building, which could be described as a block of cement hollowed from the inside out. With every step closer to his fate, he felt a knife to his heart, making it hard to breathe.  
There was no colour there. It seemed like everything was dimmed, as if the boys living there did not deserve even a slimmer of hopeful colour. All the boys were checked off, and had to go through a security check and dress in their uniform. The security check was mortifying for Harry.  
The guard, who said he would also be in charge of the floor Harry was staying, got rather handsy as he made his way down. Harry was frightened of him, because he was told to call him Nick, while everyone else were ordered to say Guard Grimshaw.  
The uniform was awful, practically just a sack, but the colour reminded Harry of the sand on the beach where his father always took him to, which made him feel both comforted and also gut wrenchingly guilty because of what he had unknowingly taken part in. The knife kept twisting and twisting as he did up all his buttons. Guard Grimshaw laid his hand on his shoulder, asking if he was okay, and Harry managed to nod yes, and wriggled away from the older man.  
After that, he, Liam and Niall were walked over to their room, where they would be sharing a room (of course, thought Harry when he heard this, gritting his teeth. As if it wasn’t enough punishment to be there.) The room was on the second floor, and it was stark white, with only two windows covered in bars. Some cells had only three walls with bars filling the fourth part, but theirs was with a bit more privacy (if you could call it that) and had a fourth wall with a door- the door being bars, but still. It was nicer than most rooms.  
There were two double decker beds, and one cot in the corner. There were also five lockers, with their locks broken, and a school sized desk for all. Just standing in the doorway made him feel like the air was being suffocated out of him, so he sprinted off to where he presumed the urinals was, ready to be sick.  
He did not reach the toilets in time, and instead he had to let his knotted stomach loose in a discarded bucket, which must have been left behind when the room was (poorly) cleaned.  
He heaved until he was sure his body no longer contained 70% water. Hey, Mrs. Flack, it seemed like one of your lessons did come in handy. Not. He stood up and went to the urinals, and as he was unbuttoning his uniform (seriously, it was so unpractical. But then again, the prison guards probably did not care for making anything easy for the inmates) a rather small lad came stumbling in, looking absolutely piss drunk, which Harry found both surprising since they were in prison and that it was barely two in the afternoon.  
“Hiiiiiii,” the boy said, and stumbled over to where Harry stood. He miscalcutalted the distance between them though, and that’s how Harry’s piss ended up all over Louis’ pants  
“Oops.”  
Seriously,Harry? He thought to himself, this is really the best you can come up with? Given his current emotional and physical state, Harry answered himself, yes, yes that was the best.  
The other boy did not seem that affected, only stood there, his eyes widening a bit, and making the red veins creeping over it even more obvious. Looks like Harry is not the only one who is a mess.  
“Uh. Well. Um. I’m Louis.”  
“Harry.”  
“Pleasure to meet you, piss boy,” Louis said, his eyes crinkling as he laughed at himself. “You one of the new one’s then?”  
Louis could easily be described as intimidating. Besides him having a below average height, and some features that could best be described as pretty, he seemed to give off self-confidence and charm. Numerous tattoos peeked out from the uniform, and even though his tone sounded friendly, there was a blank tone hiding underneath, making it clear that he did not care what the answer was.  
When Harry looked into Louis eyes, he noticed it looked like a stormy day. Deep blue skies mixed with rainclouds, and for a moment, he felt his heart stop. He felt the knife being ripped out, and it hurt, but it was good too. Louis’ eyes reminded Harry of home.  
“Yeah. Yes. Yup.”  
“Ah. One of those murderers, then?”  
Harry froze, and Louis laughed, his dimples appearing. He was strangely cheery for a criminal that just got peed on.  
“Look, you look like you hate the status, but in a place like this, well… that status might just get you out here alive.”  
Harry looked away, buttoning his uniform back up, pretending not to feel Louis’ stare.  
“I’m sorry I peed on you,” he mumbled, not wanting to answer to Louis’ previous statement.  
His vacant eyes crinkled at edges, and his smiled actually seemed genuine. This was a common occurrence.  
“ Well, I’d admit to you Curly, if I had to get someone’s pee splashed on me, I’d much rather have your pee than his pee.”  
With that, Louis turned around and strolled out of the bathroom, not looking back, and Harry smiled for the first time since he got arrested.

 

It was only later that night that Harry officially met his two cellmates. Once he walked into the door after taking a tour of the grounds and then a shower, he immediately recognised Louis. He was laying on his bed, smoking, and giving one syllable answers to Liam and Niall’s questions. On the bed above him was a dark haired boy, who was also smoking, who did not even seem to be aware of anyone in the room.  
When Louis looked up, his eyes immediately met Harry’s, and he said (with a straight face, mind you) “Pee boy! Looks like we’re roomies, aye?”  
The other one looked up, frowning. He introduced himself as Zayn, and went back to staring off into space, a slight frown on his lips.  
Niall and Liam started asking how they kknew each other, but Louis cut them off with an ice cold “Fuck off, I’ve had enough of you two. Just leave and gobother someone else.”  
The look in his eyes was enough to send them skittering away. It is very important to know that Louis is a nice guy. He likes making jokes, and he comes off cheery a lot, but you do not want to mess with him. He may be small, but he had more power in his pinkie than most war troops will ever achieve.  
Harry would soon come to realise it, when he saw the saw every single delinquent cleared the hall when Louis so much as steed into it, and even the guards were scared of him.  
Harry turned to leave too, but Louis stopped him, telling him to sit down.  
Louis offered Harry a smoke, which he politely declined, but then accepted when he realised that Louis did not ask.  
Now, that;s important to know. Louis Tomlinson does not ask. He tells you what to do in such a manner that has you believing that you are in control when actually, you are the farthest thing from it.  
A few minutes passed, but he did not say anything more, so Harry decided to ease the silence, because if there is one thing he hates more than stupid questions, it is silence. 

“What are you in for?”  
Louis didn’t respond, at first, and Harry thought maybe he hadn’t heard him, but he did not want to repeat the question and look like a fool.  
“Why do you want to know?”  
“I want to know if I’m living with a murderer or not.”  
Louis sucked in his breath, and let it out with a laugh. “You are. But it’s not me. Question is, Curly, can you live with yourself?”  
“I’m not a murderer,” Harry stated, but even he didn’t sound sure of himself.  
“Just ‘cause you did not do the deed, does not mean you ain’t guilty. Have we not discussed this? Embrace the status, young one.”  
“I would, never, ever, brag about it. And it’s not for you to decide if I am a murderer.”  
Louis narrowed his eyes, a vicious glint reflecting in the seas of blue. “Oh, but the judge already did, didn’t she?”  
Harry bit down on his lip, trying to contain the sudden flash of anger he felt towards the scrawny little one. Louis sat up, and Harry could see the many tattoos lingering on his skin, and Harry wondered if the cloud of smoke and anger following him could be counted as tattoos too. They probably could, since they were just as permanent as the rest.  
“So you are not going to tell me why you are here either, Louis?” Harry asked, and he heard Zayn let out a snort from above. Apparently he was not as out of it as he seemed.  
“Let this be lesson number one: Do not ask questions.” Louis said, his voice changing from what had been semi-friendly to the icy tone Niall and Liam had earned. “If I need you to know something, you will find out. If you ask me, the chance of me telling you reduces to zero, so be a smart boy and stay quiet. Now, I’ve had enough of your face. Zayn, get yourself down here. I need you.”  
“You don’t need anyone, Lou,” Zayn’s voice sounded faraway.  
“True. But now I want you.”  
“You mean my body,” Zayn said, clambering off from his bed with ease. He turned to Harry, who was still standing in the middle of the room, his cigarette burning out in his hand. “Are you deaf? Time to fucking leave, unless you want your little innocent mind scarred for life.”  
On the first day, they chose two electives. Niall and Liam both chose Cross Country Running and Creative Writing, because the latter sounded like an easy class to just sit and do nothing. Harry chose choir, because he loved singing, even if it was old hymns, and Creative Writing, because he loved poetry and writing songs and writing has always been a way for him to cope with everything.  
Creative writing was first, and unfortunately it was much more what Liam and Niall had hoped for than what Harry had expected. They all just sat around, and the “teacher,” was Guard Grimshaw, who apparently wrote the best essay in his class in fifth grade, so he was deemed the best possible person for the job. They were told to just keep quiet, so Harry just doodled, wishing the time away.  
As he walked over to the choir room, the last person he expected to be there his tattooed roommate, sitting in the first row like a proper head boy. Louis simply responded to his raised eyebrows with a snarl, but he still told poor soul next to him to move, so Harry could sit down.  
The choir wasn’t what Harry had expected either. In fact, it was much better. The guard who organised it was mildly enthusiastic, and seemed to have utter disrespect for the term hymn, so they mostly spent their time singing 80’s classics, which Harry didn’t mind all that much.  
He also didn’t mind hearing Louis sing. His voice soared above the rest, and Harry couldn’t help but imagine Louis as a big star on stage, if he ever got out of the hellhole they were in now.  
The classes- if you could call it that- were mostly spent sitting around. Even though Louis was much older than Harry, he was still in the same classes, since he had spent the last few years on the streets, not able to go to school.  
Louis seemed to have taken quite a shining to Harry, much to the displeasure of Guard Grimshaw, so the two sat together in classes, considering Zayn didn’t bother to show up for classes, and Harry would rather eat his uniform than sit in the company of the two boys that got him there in the first place.  
Not that Harry minded though, it gave him a lot of time to just sit and stare at Louis. Louis is a great person to just like sit and just admire what he's like.  
Harry spent the first few weeks of classes just sitting and staring. He found that Louis’ eyes changed colour a lot. His pupils were permanently dilated, and sometimes his eyes even started to look a little red, but that was probably only the reflection of his eyelids when he had gone into a back room with Zayn.  
Everybody knew about them, but not a single “faggot” would be uttered towards them, since they could crush your skull in two seconds flat. Harry felt strangely jealous of Zayn, because he got to see a much more vulnerable side of Louis.  
Sometimes his eyes were bright blue when they laughed at one of Harry’s witty remarks, but turned a pale grey when he had been sitting alone smoking too long. It was as if the smoke went through his lungs, clouded his brain with haunting thoughts, and then took over his eyes.  
Harry even noticed that every time Louis disappeared “to the urinals” he would come back rubbing his nose. He noticed that Louis just picked at his food, never seeming to have an appetite. The food was horrid, true, but it was still edible, so it was strange that Louis didn’t even touch it.  
It was strange that in just three weeks, Harry and Louis had started to spend more and more time together, and sure, Louis still sneaked off to Zayn sometimes, but it was a daily occurrence anymore. Louis talked to Harry, and the more he did, the more Harry realised how absolutely besotted he was about him.  
Niall had started volunteering in the kitchen, which is probably just so he could get more food. He brought all his experiments to the room, just to try and find a way for Harry to forgive him. He once heard his mum say that the way to a man’s heart ids through his stomach, and that seemed like a plausible theory for forgiveness too. Liam, too, had found a way to keep himself busy, but it had nothing to do with food and forgiveness. Instead, it had more to do with the sombre, dark haired roommate he had.  
In another one of Niall’s many attempts at forgiveness, he managed to smuggle in a moleskin notebook so Harry could write in it, because he knew Harry hated using only the loose pieces of paper they were given. Even though Harry didn’t say a word to him, he accepted the notebook and carried it around everywhere, writing whenever he got the chance.

Harry often woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares of guns shooting and lights flashing and blood all over the floor, and then Louis would immediately be by his side, not once asking what was wrong, just climbing into bed with him, and running his delicate fingers over Harry’s back until he fell asleep. Louis would never show that type of intimacy in front of anyone else, and it was like a secret between the two of them. The only one who could possibly know was Zayn, because sometimes Harry would see the dim light of a cigarette coming from Zayn’s bed when he shifted over to make space for Louis.  
It never once crossed his mind why Louis always seemed to be awake at three in the morning, or why when he got up in the morning; Louis wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  
He loved that Louis was so overconfident. He had an aura around him, and it was addicting. Soon, Harry found himself needing Louis’ presence close to him just to make him feel a bit more at home. He was quickly starting to refer to his roommate, who he barely even knew, as home. It was a mistake, because he knew Louis was reckless, and a ticking time bomb, but he remained addicted nonetheless. So addicted that he ignored Louis’ crazy actions, and haphazard moods.  
But sadly, as much as Harry was addicted to Louis, it seemed Louis was addicted to Zayn. Even though it was less often, Louis still went away with Zayn, sometimes for hours on end.  
When Louis occasionally did fall asleep after tossing and turning for hours, he had nightmares in the middle of the night, and it was Zayn who clambered down and sat next to him, passing his cigarettes on to Louis.  
Whenever this happened, Harry would remain laying in his bed, waiting for them to go to sleep, but they never did. Louis never knew about it, he was too busy smoking away the memory, but Zayn’s dark eyes always caught Harry from the other side of the room, and it held a mixture of pity and anger. Maybe that is how you could best describe him; Zayn hated himself, but he hated everyone else more. Except maybe Louis. 

 

Months passed before Harry got the courage to ask Louis about Zayn. It was the last Sunday of the month, so they got the day off. Zayn hadn’t gotten up in the morning, and growled whenever anyone neared him. When Harry brushed his teeth, the bloke next to him said that he had heard that Louis and Zayn had gotten it on in the middle of the night with no one was watching. Harry spit out his toothpaste and practically ran out of the room, the thought making him nauseous.  
Since Zayn was unavailable, Louis asked Harry to go walk with him. They strolled around the grounds, and since it was a special day, they didn’t have to wear a uniform. Harry used the opportunity to wear his skinniest jeans and a trench coat, and had been surprised when he met Louis outside, and the older one was wearing exactly the same.  
Except, Louis didn’t seem to notice. He seemed distracted, even more than usual, but the further they walked, the more relaxed Louis became, up until Harry finally got the courage to ask the question that had burned at his insides for months. 

If Louis had been drinking something, he would have spit it out right then. “I do not have boyfriends, Curly.” He stated, fixing his fringe, which was falling out of his quiff. “Zayn is just there, you know.”  
“That is just so wrong,” Harry said, looking down at his boots.  
Louis squinted at him, but he couldn’t manage to look as devilish as he always did. “Don’t blame me for using things to be happy. You use that goddamn notebook you always carry around. It doesn’t complain, so what’s the problem? Zayn doesn’t complain, so what’s the problem?”  
“It’s selfish, and you and I know both know that you’re doing more than just sex. It’s dangerous, Lou! Fuck, you could die.”  
“Do not call me Lou. I know very well I could die; why do you think I use it? I’m a waste of space, Harry. I deserve it.” He said it in such a monotone, boring way, that you could almost believe it was true, if it wasn’t for his voice cracking when he said Harry’s name.  
“But you don’t deserve it! You deserve so much more! You could be so happy, if you just tried.”  
“I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t just meddle in, it has absolutely nothing to do with you.”  
“I was just trying to help.”  
“Next time you think of helping, think again,” Louis said, his mouth forming an ugly snarl, the type that Harry didn’t know Louis perfect face could make.  
Louis huffed, and started walking back to their room, and a begrudging Harry followed him. The room was empty, and as soon as the door shut behind Harry, he was roughly pushed against the wall. He froze as Louis tackled him, shocked at the sudden unveiling of anger. Louis was strong, but he himself seemed shocked by his actions, so it was not difficult for Harry to swop them around and put Louis against the wall. Only, when he had his chance to punch Louis, he couldn’t. He was so wrapped up in the adrenaline, he had to do something, and his lips decided that punching Louis’ own lips would be the best option. His hands found their way up Louis’ neck, and he loved the feeling of goose bumps under his fingers, and up into Louis’ hair, where he completely tousled it, making the perfect quiff disappear in seconds.  
He pulled away, but Louis pulled him back in, and his kiss was so desperate, that if it was not so goddamn poetic, it would be pathetic.  
Before they could get much further, though, they heard the sound of Guard Grimshaw buzzing up in the special elevator only the guards could use. They tore apart, and Louis pushed Harry away, stomping over to his bed, and turning to face the wall.  
Harry pushed his collar up, and went to sit in the corner, his notebook on his lap. He was about to start writing when the door opened and Guard Grimshaw stuck his head in the room.  
“Harry, would you mind a word in my office?” he asked, completely ignoring Louis’ presence. Harry got up, slowly following the older man out of the room, but not before turning around and winking at Louis. Harry could be a sneaky devil if he wanted to too. He was giddy to see that Louis’ cheeks flashed pink at that, and turned around to practically skip after his guard. 

 

“What do you need from me, Guard Grimshaw?” Harry asked, a smirk playing at his lips. His mind was still with Louis, who was waiting for him in their room.  
“Harry, how many times do I have to say, call me Nick,” the guard smiled a bright smile, and sat down on his desk right in front of Harry.  
“Well, I , uh, don’t think that’s very professional, so…”  
“Harry,” Nick reached out and tucked a stray curl behind Harry’s ear. “You and I both know what’s between us is far from professional.”  
Harry choked on the water his guard had offered him when he sat down. “Excuse me?”  
“You heard me. What we have between us… you feel it too, don’t you?”  
“With all due respect, sir-“  
“-Nick!”  
“Right. Nick, I don’t think this will work out. I just don’t think it would be very- don’t take this the wrong way, but just old, and I already have someone I very much-”  
Harry didn’t get to finish his sentence, because that’s when Nick launched himself at him, moving so he was sitting on his lap and kissing Harry with such passion that he was shell-shocked. So shocked that he couldn’t move. Sure, he had seen all the times his guard had winked at him, or given him special treatment, but he never thought it would actually go this far. He thought he could escape when Nick leaned back, but then he leaned back in, his police badge scraping Harry’s throat as he gave him a hickey. Finally, he seemed to be done, and with a light-hearted wave, he told Harry he would see him later. The poor younger one was too shocked to say anything, so he just stumbled away, trying to get away before Nick could call him back. 

 

Harry walked back to his room, slightly unsteady on his feet. He stumbled through the door, and rubbed his neck, where he could feel the hickey coming on. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Louis sitting quietly sitting on his bed, going through his notebook.  
“What are you doing?!” he exploded, grabbing the book. The notebook contained every thought he had. Every painstakingly lovey-dovey thought about Louis, every nightmare about his father, every tear about Louis walking out with Zayn.  
“Relax, I’m just reading. What, is there something I shouldn’t see?” Louis laughed, a strange twinkle in his eye. Harry had rarely seen the twinkle, and it was usually accompanied by red eyes. But for once, Louis seemed deliriously happy with reality, and his eyes were as clear and blue as the sky. Harry wanted badly for Louis to stop his nonsense, and just have bright blue eyes for the rest of his life.  
The twinkle disappeared as he saw the hickey on Harry’s neck. He glanced at Harry’s lips, and it was chapped, much more than they had been when he had left Louis just a little while earlier.  
His face showed heartbreak for a single second before he jumped up to leave, pushing past Harry and any explanation he wanted to give. Harry grabbed for his arm, but Louis dove away, and with a voice as cold as ice, he said,  
“Grimshaw? I guess I should have known.”  
“Louis, I can explain, please.”  
Louis ripped away from his roommate’s touch. “Have you never watched a romcom, Styles? Whenever anyone says they can explain, you know they really can’t. I am not stupid.”  
Harry frowned, trying to think of any way to take back the last twenty minutes. He wanted to be back in Louis’arms.  
“But you know what, Harry? This is better. I know your type, the romantics, think everything can be solved with kisses and love. Well, it cannot. People like me do not love, we fuck. And you could never do that. So honestly, this is better. Enjoy Grimshaw.” With that, he spun on his heel and slammed the door behind him, the crash making Harry choke with tears and slowly slide down the wall to his knees, his head between his hands. He had fully fucked up any chance he had. 

 

He was alone for an hour before Liam and Niall returned, chattering excitedly. When Niall saw Harry on the ground, he promptly dropped the please-forgive-me-pecan-pie he had made, and rushed to his side. He tried to ask what had happened, but Harry still wouldn’t even look him in the eye, so he shoved him away, and went to lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing he had run after Louis, but knowing there was nothing to do but wait for him to return.  
When Louis did return, hours later, his eyes were red.

 

Louis wouldn’t look at him, and he only entered the room to get his coat and then head off to dinner. If it hadn’t been for his eyes, you would think Louis was as badass and energetic as usual. All through dinner Harry tried to catch Louis’ attention, but the older one didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he went right back to Zayn’s side, laughing at everything he said with a brutal glint in his eyes.  
The other boys (including Zayn) were all confused, but just wrote is off as Louis being Louis, and him finally treating Harry as he treats everyone else. When Nick walked past their table, his touch lingered on Harry’s back, and Louis’ jaw set, and a shadow passed over his face. He shoved away his once again barely eaten food and stood up to leave.  
“Sit down Tomlinson. Finish your soup like the good criminal that you are.”  
Louis let out a bark of laughter. “Well, as an officer of the law you would know crime, wouldn’t you? Now tell me, I’m sincerely interested, is it a crime for a man, above the age of twenty five, mind you, to seduce an innocent sixteen year old?”  
“Scamper off now, son. I believe you wanted to leave.”  
“Oh, gladly! I might just google that though. Or maybe your lovely General Simon Cowell will know?”  
There was a ten second stare off, until Nick turned and left, his jaw set. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, and Niall asked, sounding very much confused, “Wait. What just happened here?”  
“Ask your buddy there. I’m out.” Louis left, not even taking Zayn with him, which was surprising. Once he was out of earshot, even Zayn turned to Harry to find out what was going on.  
“Nothing,” Harry muttered, “Absolutely nothing.”

 

“Louis Tomlinson, a word please?”  
Nick stood in the doorway, his hand lingering on the gun attached to his belt. All the boys were getting ready for bed, and Harry was nowhere to be found. Louis didn’t look very bothered about the fact, but then again, he was an excellent actor. It was in situations like this that he was very proud of it.  
“I’d rather not, to be honest,” he muttered from where he was lying on his bed, his cigarette hanging loosely from his hand.  
“I did not give you a choice. I am your authority figure, and you will listen to me. Now, are you coming, or shall I have to force you?”  
Louis lazily followed the guard to his office, and sat down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. “I think you should know that I’m not interested. Or do you only make moves or pretty boys with curls?”  
The snarl on Nick’s face would have scared any other person in Huckster, but Louis had seen much worse than that, so he barely moved.  
“Now listen here, I don’t know what you think you know, but I’d advise you to keep your trap shut if you know what’s good for you, kid.”  
“Ha. Okay okay. I get it. I thought maybe you’d blackmail me, but now I see you’re more into threats. Did you know almost 100% of threats are empty?”  
“Mine is not.”  
“Prove it then,” Louis said, and did not flinch, not even when Nick reached for his baton. 

Harry could hear the blows from where he was lying in bed. 

 

Nobody mentioned the blue marks on Louis’ skin in the same way they didn’t mention the scars that started appearing on his back when Zayn arrived, or the reason why he was there in the first place. Every time Harry came near him, he would move away, and start talking to someone else.  
Every other night, Nick would invite Harry over to his office. At first he refused, but as time wore on and Louis remained silent, he started going. He only ever did it to get some type of reaction from Louis, but whatever he was looking for, he didn’t get it.  
So Harry started frequenting Nick’s office more and more, and Louis started sneaking off with Zayn more and more. It was an ice-cold December night, or rather morning, and Harry just couldn’t sleep. He saw Louis tossing and turning before climbing up the ladder to Zayn’s bed. With each wavering step up the ladder, Harry felt his heart squeeze more and more, until when Louis reached the top, he couldn’t breathe.  
Usually, his heartbreak was a fleeting moment when he looked over at the older boy, but after that moment, it didn’t go away. It stayed as he watched the sheets move, as he saw the light of the cigarettes start to burn, as he heard them kissing, as he saw Zayn jump down, grab Louis’ hand and lead him away.  
It stayed and Harry grabbed his notebook and started writing, because that’s the only medicine that he could think of. After all, you cannot break a writer’s heart, and expect the ink not to spill. 

 

You don't understand, you don't understand  
What you do to me when you hold his hand  
We were meant to be but a twist of fate  
Made it so we had to walk away

Cause we're on fire, we're all on fire  
We're on fire now  
Yeah we're on fire, we are on fire  
We're on fire now

(1, 2, 3)

I don't care what people say when we're together  
You know I want to be the one who holds you when you sleep  
I just want it to be you and I forever  
I know you wanna leave  
So come on baby be with me so happily

It's 4am and I know that you're with him  
I wonder if he knows that I've touched your skin  
And if he feels my traces in your hair  
I'm sorry lord but I don't really care

Cause we're on fire, we're all on fire  
We're on fire now  
Yeah we're on fire, we are on fire  
We're on fire now

I don't care what people say when we're together  
You know I want to be the one  
Who holds you when you sleep  
I just want it to be you and I forever  
I know you wanna leave  
So come on baby be with me so happily  
So happily  
1, 2, 3, 4

I don't care what people say when we're together  
You know I want to be the one  
Who holds you when you sleep  
I just want it to be you and I forever  
I know you wanna leave  
So come on baby be with me so happily

 

*6 months later*  
“Nialler, give me the cookie.”  
Niall laughed, not at all intimidated by Harry.  
“I am serious. I will count to three, and if I don’t have one of your extra-sweet-strawberry-and-vanilla-cookie in my hands, there will be extreme problems for you.”  
Three seconds and a violent wrestling match on the floor later, Harry sat and happily chomped on the sugary treat. After Louis continued to ignore him, he started spending more time with his old friends.  
The friendship still had its faults, of course. But the boys chose to ignore them. Niall and Liam ignored how Harry still got upset every time Louis left with Zayn, and Harry ignored how Liam had started to look upset whenever it happened, too. They all ignored the reason they were there, and had not said a single word about it to each other. Harry pretended that he didn’t know anything about the woman who died. He pretended that he played games on the internet, not read article after article.  
Her name was Caroline, and she was thirty years old. She had two small children; a six year old girl and a three year old boy. She had worked in that bank for ten years. Her husband released a press release, and Harry had to watch it three times, because the man was sobbing so hard you couldn’t really hear what he was saying.  
He wanted to send a letter to the man, a formal apology of some type, but he knew better than that. He kept quiet about it, and if the other two boys did any research, they said nothing either.  
It was a rainy day when just after breakfast Nick came to get Harry. Normally he would only get him at night, so this made Harry aware that something else was going on. Louis, however, was not aware of that fact, or just did not think of it, because he sighed to himself, and walked out of their room, not even bothering to grab his coat.  
When they walked down the hallway and his guard explained what was happening, he thought he heard wrong.  
“I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?”  
“You have a visitor, Harry. It is your mother.”  
“But… she’s never come to visit.”  
“Maybe she had a change of heart. Should I tell her you refuse to see her?”  
“NO. No, please.” 

She look old, was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was, she’s wearing an engagement ring.  
It is true, his mother, who once looked easily ten years younger than her actual age, now looked like she was ten years older than her age. Her hair even had streaks of grey in it. Growing up, she always laughingly told him that he was giving her grey hair, but now, it did not seem like a laughing matter anymore.  
When he entered the room, her mouth scrunched up and she started crying. She was sitting on the other side of the table, with her hands in her lap. Harry immediately rushed to her side, but just as he was about to touch her, a guard’s voice said, “No touching.”  
It was not Nick. This guard spoke with the coldness that Harry had only recently heard from Louis.  
It broke Harry when he backed away, and had to sit across her. It broke him that she was just there, closer than she had been for almost a year and a half, and he could not wipe her tears away. What’s worse, he knew he was the reason for her tears.  
“You look so… grown up.” She said, and he knew she meant he looked like a criminal with the uniform, but he appreciate that she chose not to say that.  
“Yeah… I did grow a bit. Thank you for coming. I have to say, I didn’t think you ever would.”  
The tears that had momentarily stopped started rolling down her cheeks again.  
“I’m sorry, mum,” Harry said, and he was. Not only for making her cry then, but for causing her grey hair, for causing the sadness that seemed to wrap around her.  
After his father died, he was all that she had left. They had leaned on each other for support, and it tied his stomach in knots that the woman in front of him barely seemed to recognise him. One of his only link to his past, had the same look on her face as everyone else did. It read plain and simple, a look Harry had grown accustomed to receiving from strangers, but ripped him apart to see from his mother. The look said; criminal.  
“I see you’re engaged now! Who’s the lucky chap?” he asked, trying to make the conversation light again, but his voice sounded rough and forced.  
“Oh, um. Joshua Williams.”  
“My maths teacher?”  
“Yes. He said that you had been his student.”  
The past tense wrenched the knot tighter and tighter.  
“When’s the wedding?”  
“In August; two months’ time.”  
“I wish I could have been there. I’ll send a letter though, if you want me to.”  
She bit down on her lip, and her voice quivered when she said that she would love that. She looked so alone in that moment, that Harry lost his self control. He did not care that he would be punished for touching her, and did not even consider that maybe she did not want him to touch her.  
He look her in his arms, and held her so close that he could feel her tears making his t shirt wet. The guard was next to them in seconds, tearing them apart. Two other guards appeared out of nowhere, and started dragging him away.  
“You are getting isolation for that, young mister!” the guard snarled, and opened the door for him to be led away. As Harry glanced back for a single second, he saw his mother age another ten years in front of him. 

Isolation was, well, isolated. In the first hour that Harry was there, he paced the small room back and forth until he knew it like the back of his hand.  
The walls were bare, with no windows, and in a dire need for a new coat of paint. The “bed” consisted of a blanket that had been thrown on the ground, and a pillow that looked like it contained a billion germs.  
He sat down in the corner, with his legs pulled up against his chest. He could see the tattoos he had foolishly gotten from a scaly guy on their floor, in an attempt to get Louis’ attention, but he had not even noticed them.  
The door cracked open slowly, and Harry brushed over his eyes, knowing that if one of the actual guards saw him cry, he would be in hell for sure. Instead of the guard, he was shocked to see Louis peeking out from behind the door. He sat blinking for a moment, not quite sure if it was really him.  
Louis walked over to him, careful not to make a sound. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked; his voice just above a whisper.  
“Shhh, they’ll hear you. I heard what happened, and I knew you didn’t have that book of yours with you, so I thought I should bring it to you.”  
In a swift motion, Louis pulled the notebook out of his pocket and shoved it into Harry’s hands.  
“How did you even get in here?” Harry asked. There were easily five guards sitting outside, making it impossible for anybody to just slip by.  
“You have underestimated me, Styles,” he laughed, something he had not done for a while. It still sounded a little sad.  
Louis looked like he was constantly on the edge, waiting for the guards to come in. Sweat was glistening on his lip, and it looked like he had only shaved half of his face. When Harry inquired about this, he did not answer the question. Harry felt honoured that after all this, Louis had dropped what he was doing to come see him. He knew it shouldn’t, but it gave him a little hope.  
“They said they’re keeping you here for the night. It’s ridiculous, I mean… you just gave her a hug,” Louis looked more than a little miffed, and to be honest, his expression looked more adorable than menacing.  
“Maybe it’s a good thing. Gives me time to clear my head.”  
Louis stood up from where he was crouching in front of Harry, and started backing away slowly. It seemed like he was not going to respond to Harry, but just as he was about to reach the door, he did.  
“Stop insisting on clearing your head- clear your heart instead.”

 

Harry was not stupid enough to think that everything would go back to how it was. He did not however, expect Louis to go back to completely ignoring him. When he got back to their room, Louis stood up and left.  
Irritable from his lack of sleep, Harry took off after him. Apparently, Louis had taken up jogging because when Harry found him half an hour later, he was running around the track field. It seemed like he was trying to run fast enough to leave the world behind.  
Harry climbed over the little fence and stood to the side, just watching Louis. Neither of them said anything, and Louis just kept running, but he definitely saw Harry. The moment their eyes met, he got an extra spurt of speed, and went for another lap before slowing down next to Harry again. Louis did not seem to be handling the sudden exercise well. He took far too long to finally catch his breath.  
“Are you done?” Harry asked, and he meant more than just running. He meant ignoring him. He meant not even looking at him.  
“Yes,” Louis said, his voice catching in his throat. He remained silent for a few moments, and he looked like he was in pain. Harry would give anything to be able to reach out to him, but he was scared that he would back away, and the thought of that hurt Harry more than he wished it did, so he kept his hands to himself.  
“Why do you smoke so much? It’s so bad for you.”  
Louis laughed, and his painful expression was gone. Unfortunately though, it was not a kind laugh.  
“That is exactly the point.”  
Harry wished it was not. He wished and wished he could go back to the few minutes that he and Louis had been good, but he knew he could not.  
“I’m sorry, okay?” Harry said, “I shouldn’t have let Nick-”  
“Nick?” Louis asked, sounding incredulous.  
Harry blushed. He had gotten used to calling Nick by his name, and hadn’t thought how it was actually so, so wrong.  
“That’s not the point. It was never him, Lou. You never let me explain. He came onto me. What was I supposed to do? He has the power to get me out of here. And I couldn’t just say no.”  
“How am I supposed to believe that?” Louis asked.  
“I don’t know.” Harry was clearly frustrated. The isolation had done nothing to clear his head. Or his heart, for that matter.  
“He has the power to get you out, true. But do you honestly think he would do that, when you’re his little scapegoat? Shit, Harry, I didn’t know you were this stupid.”  
Harry’s shove had sent him flying backwards, and Louis was on the ground two seconds later. Harry remained standing, gritting his teeth. When Louis realised Harry wasn’t going to do him any further harm, he pulled himself up, and dusted off the red dust that had settled on his uniform.  
“You don’t get to tell me anything, not when you have Zayn.”  
Harry’s voice cracked, and Louis pretended not to notice, and Harry did the same about the quiver in Louis’ stance.  
“You don’t know shit about that.”  
“I know more than you think, and much more than you want me to. And that makes me wonder, Louis, are you addicted to him, or the attention and drugs he gives you?”  
Harry expected a lot of things. Wanted some even.  
For Louis to lose it.  
For him to shout and kick and punch and let out the swelling rage that he had kept inside him.  
For him to retort something back, something he knew would cut Harry deeper than words should.  
For him not to care the slightest, to just stroll away like the words meant nothing to him.  
But he did not expect Louis to look so upset. His face showed that he was burned with the question, and blue eyes had never looked that much like sadness. Louis did leave, after it seemed like there was nothing left to say, and Harry remained standing alone on the track long after Louis had disappeared into the building.  
He looked up to the dark clouds hanging over the institution, and if he was some type of poet he would have made a metaphor about the clouds being the heaviness in their hearts, the conflict still between them, but he was not a poet. He was a criminal. At least, that's what his reflection said every day.

It was a few nights after the fight on the track that they caught Liam and Zayn together. Harry suspected that this might happen sooner rather than later, because the stares between the two other boys had been lingering more and more as time passed.  
Harry did not care much. He was back to a rocky friendship with Liam, and he had not even had a full conversation with Zayn in all the time that he had served in Huckster.  
Louis cared. He was the first one that walked in on them, followed by Niall and Harry, and they all seemed shocked for a moment. Louis controlled his expression, but since Harry had spent months studying the boy, he was the way his face scrunched up for a millisecond.  
Louis did not love Zayn. Zayn was a way to escape reality for a while, a way to make him forget about his voice in his head humming his secrets like it was a number one hit on the radio. Love is not medicine for cravings of attention and affection, but just because you do not love somebody, does not mean that they cannot hurt you.  
That may explain why Louis felt disgust rile up his throat as Zayn slowly untangled him from Liam’s grope, his cigarette dangling from his smirk. Liam remained on the bed, seeming flustered, and avoiding looking at the space where Louis stood.  
“What’s this then?” Louis had asked, and his voice was cool, indifferent. He was met with a shrug from Zayn.  
“Mate, you know I get bored easily, that’s all. Don’t be a prick ‘bout it. Now, if you don’t mind, we,” he pointed at Liam, who was now awkwardly trying to stand up, “have some unfinished business.  
The door slamming close behind them let the anger flare into Louis’ eyes.  
“You all right?” Niall asked, placing his hand on Louis’ shoulder. It was immediately pushed away. Louis did not even bother responding, only smirked (which, Harry noticed, seemed even more dangerous now) and shuffled away, heading to the back door.  
Harry stood frozen on the spot, until Niall turned to him, and with a quirk of the eyebrow, he his words set Harry in motion, “Go. I regret it every day, that I ruined your life, so I will not accept you doing something that I know you will regret possibly more than trusting me.”

 

Louis was smoking on the roof when Harry found him.  
Harry had always been an art appreciator, but Louis sitting there with his feet dangling over the edge, was the most beautiful masterpiece that he had ever seen. He wished he had a camera to make the moment immortal, but he only had his eyes, so he took a second to let the image seep into his mind. He wondered how someone could look that perfect, and at the same time, that broken.  
Louis looked like a Monet. From far away, he seemed whole and perfect, but the closer Harry got, the more you saw the little strokes, the details that broke him down. He saw the way his hands were shaking, and the way that he was seated just too close to the edge. If you stood up right next to him, it could be overwhelming in the sense that you cannot even see the bigger picture, and it only looks like a bunch of haphazard strokes. To Harry, he looked like a thousand midnight heartbreaks and a thousand more unsaid things.  
Yet the strokes still spoke of a masterpiece.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii :)  
> this is not finished yet, but I'd really love it if you could comment your thoughts?


End file.
